Reflections
by CatchMeInADream
Summary: After the events of The Secret, Roxton attempts to pick up the pieces of his relationship with Marguerite.


Disclaimers: The Lost World characters do not belong to me. Wish that they did though.  
  
Notes: Hi all. This is my first fanfic, so please be kind. And hit that review button! :)   
Oh, and I have no idea whether or not people back in 1922 (is that the right year?) knew about the moon thing I've included here. I imagine they didn't, but we're gonna pretend they did.  
  
Archiving: Anywhere, anytime, just ask me first.  
  
  
  
  
Reflections  
  
  
  
The moon was full that night. It was always full when she was most miserable. When she was a young girl on days when the nuns had been particularly cruel to her, or the other children had thrown stones just a little too hard, she would sneak out of the room she shared with several other girls to go stare at the moon. She had thought then that the moon was always full and round so it could wink back down at her and lift her spirits.  
  
As she got older and her misery increased, she realized that the moon had a cycle. That sometimes it was just a mere sliver in the sky and other times it was as big and shiny as a coin that she might reach up and pluck from the sky. She knew that cycle by heart.  
  
But it never failed that when she was the most miserable, when she couldn't see any light at all in the dark abyss that was her life, the moon was the most full it would be that month. So it didn't surprise her that it was full now.   
  
The moon was Marguerite's only constant companion.  
  
*****  
  
As genius as he was, Challenger couldn't figure out how this had come about. He didn't know how such an incident--indeed, such a small incident compared to some of the other fixes their expedition had been in--could cause Lord John Roxton to close off so completely to the woman he loved. The man had stuck by her through thick and thin, had promised her so much, and had made her believe those promises, all for this. Something had to be done.  
  
"You're a fool," he said very quietly, but firmly, to the man sitting across the table from him. John looked up sharply, narrowing his eyes at his companion.  
  
"Pardon?" he asked coolly.  
  
"You heard me," Challenger said sharply. "You're a fool to let something as small as this medallion come between you and her like this."  
  
John's eyes widened in surprise and he opened his mouth for a sharp retort, but Challenger wasn't near finished. He was even getting angry.  
  
"She risked everything she had to find out who she was," the scientist continued. "And she had precious little to begin with. Imagine now, this woman who had almost nothing three years ago, who has now so much less than she started out with, all because of your wounded pride!"  
  
"She lied to us!" John cried, keeping his voice low so the woman in question, who was standing outside on the balcony, would not hear them.   
  
"That's happened before! Or were you so naive as to think that she was no longer capable of that particular skill?" Challenger snorted. "Yes, John, she kept the truth from us. She is, even now, keeping even more truths from us. That is her business, and it's not our place to force them out of her!"  
  
"Even if they could endanger us?" John asked pointedly.  
  
"Even if they could endanger us," Challenger said firmly. "You must know by now that if a situation such at this should ever arise again, we can count on her to do everything in her power to keep us safe."  
  
"But..."  
  
"Oh, shut up, John. I'm going to say this just once, and then I want you to go out there and be with her. She chose you. That extraordinary woman out there chose you! She gave up things she didn't even have for you. And now you're punishing her!"  
  
Challenger fell silent, having said what needed to be said. Without waiting for John to gather his thoughts enough to reply, he quietly excused himself and descended the steps to his lab.  
  
John sat where he was left, staring into empty space. Challenger's words echoed in his mind, and the more he meditated on them, the truer they rang. They didn't take away the hurt he felt, or the betrayal, but he was humbled to realize that his stoic love was out there all alone, icing over the places in her once frozen heart he had begun to warm for her. He couldn't let this go. He needed to rethaw those places or else he might never get her back. Resolved, he stood so quickly that his chair skidded backwards, then tumbled over, but he was already halfway to the balcony.  
  
As he neared the balcony enough to see her, huddled into the farthest corner, as far away from the other occupants of the tree house as she could get, he stopped suddenly, nerves crackling to life and churning his stomach. Shaking his head, he tried to forget the fact that their entire relationship was balanced on the tip of his tongue. He took three large steps and was by her side.   
  
She didn't look at him. She knew that would be her undoing. But his mere presence, which had always been able to soothe her skittish spirit, now sent her into a fit of trembling. She couldn't take this. Not right now. Why couldn't he leave her to bleed in peace? Or did he have to tear into her again, before the other wounds his words had inflicted had time to heal?   
  
"What do you want?" she asked icily.   
  
He was silent for a moment as he comtemplated what he could say to her. No words came to mind, so finally, he folded his arms around her, pulling her close. At first she sagged against his chest, defeated. Then, suddenly, she was a whirlwind of anger. She pulled back and hissed at him.  
  
"Do you think it will be that easy?" she demanded. "Do you think I will so readily forgive you? Go away! Leave me be! I'm not so broken that you can just put your arms around me and I will be mollified!"  
  
His first reaction was anger. How dare she? Here he was, ready and willing to forgive her for the torment she had put him through and she had the gall to yell at him? If anything, she should be on her knees begging forgiveness from him!  
  
Then he looked into her eyes and all his anger was melted. She did look broken--more broken than he had ever seen her, and he wanted nothing more than to make that look go away. She was too strong to have that look in her eyes. Gently, he let his arms drop, but did not eliminate contact between them completely. He took her hands in his. They were cold as ice.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
She pulled back again, opening her mouth for another verbal lashing. Then her eyes widened as she realized what he had said and she asked, "What did you say?"  
  
"I'm sorry," he repeated. "For all the things I said. I was angry. I wasn't thinking clearly."  
  
"Of course you were," she murmured. "I don't want your apology. Dammit John, I don't want your pity!"  
  
She whirled away from him, turning her face back to the sky. The moon's pale silver light bathed her gently, causing her to glow very softly. She shook her head in denial and asked him, "What do you really want?"  
  
"I want you to forgive me," John insisted. "I want you to forgive yourself. Most of all, I want that look in your eyes to go away. Marguerite, I was harsh with you today. I was hurt, and I felt betrayed. I won't lie to you: I still feel that way. But I'm not willing to lose you."  
  
She shook her head again, but her shoulders were sagging in defeat. "I don't have anything to give you. I don't know my name, I don't know how old I am ... I have nothing."  
  
"That's where you're wrong!" John cried, taking her shoulders and spinning her to face him. "Marguerite, you have so much right here! You've got me, and I don't care whether or not you know your name. Names aren't important."  
  
"That's easy for you to say," the woman murmured. "You know who you are. You have a name, you have a family. And you take it all for granted. You don't know what it's like..."  
  
She fell silent, once again turning her gaze to the moon. For a moment, he just looked at her, looking at the moon. Then, finally, she spoke so quietly that he had to strain to hear her words.  
  
"Do you know how the moon makes its light?" she asked him. "It's reflected off the sun. The moon has no actual light of it's own." She turned to look at him. "I am the moon, John. I don't shine, I reflect. Everything about me you see is a reflection of something, someone else. I'm not genuine."  
  
"That's not true," John whispered. "You shine more brightly than anything else in this world. That's why I love you so much. Because you always shine, day and night, no matter what kind of situation you're in."  
  
"And what if I have nothing more to shine for?"   
  
John sighed. "Shine for me, love," he pleaded. "Shine for me."  
  
She stiffened next to him, wanting so much to take his words to heart. But she didn't know if she had it in her anymore. The very thing she had yearned for was standing before her, giving himself to her despite what she put him through, and she still had doubts. He didn't realize how much this ordeal had broken her.   
  
John watched her closely as she considered his words. She looked like a deer now, caught in a bright light. He could tell she wanted to break away, to run for her life (and her heart) but something unexplainable was holding her feet in place.   
  
Suddenly, she whirled and threw her arms around his neck, sobbing.  
  
"God help me, I love you," she cried, shuddering violently in his arms. "With everything I have that's still mine, I love you!"  
  
John held her tightly as she cried, laying his cheek on the top of her head. His hands rubbed slow, soothing circles on her back. It would be a long road to recovery, he knew, but they would make it. He knew they would.  
  
High in the sky, the full moon winked at them. 


End file.
